


part of the song

by hypotheticalfanfic



Series: a head full of noise and light [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-10
Updated: 2011-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypotheticalfanfic/pseuds/hypotheticalfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, for a while, she's a part of the song, and it's enough. Non-romantic/no pairing. Part of the "head full of noise and light" series, featuring Donna after the events of "Journey's End."</p>
            </blockquote>





	part of the song

And after the wedding and the honeymoon and the first baby — that strange, disappearing man who called the ambulance, the man she's half-decided never existed — and the next few, well. Donna Temple-Noble is tired. And she's shopping for groceries, because the twins are eating her out of house and home, and Alice back from university and loves anything with carbs, and the toddler is apparently afraid of food that's yellow. So grocery shopping it is.

And she's tired, and the toddler is jabbering on about something, and it's not until a skinny little redhead bumps into her that Donna realizes what she's doing: standing in the middle of the aisle staring at the spinach, blank-faced and still as statues. The redhead is pretty, looks a bit like Alice, and, smiling, apologizes in a broad Scottish accent, and Donna nods as if it's a dream, and the redhead scampers off after a man, and Donna's head hurts and so she turns around and continues her shopping. Picks up a bottle of aspirin, for the headache, and snaps at the toddler and feels awful about it.

And Alice, that night at dinner, tells them two things: one, she's a lesbian, and two, she wants to be an astronaut. And Donna Temple-Noble, her mind ringing with an odd clanging sound and her head still hurting, says something about Mars, and Alice goes off on a long description of life on the new settlement, and how wonderful it will be, and how they'll love Jane, her girlfriend, and how she'll make them proud, she will, she promises. And Donna Temple-Noble, that strange old bell ringing in her head, tells Alice that there's nothing she could do to make them not proud. And that Grandpa would be over the moon if he was still here. And that Jane sounds lovely.

And when Donna Temple-Noble goes to bed that night, head full of noise and light, she dreams about something she's dreamed about before: a phonebox, a blue one, and it's floating in space, and she's there, leaning out and waving, and Grandpa is looking up at her through a telescope and throwing his hat in the air. And like always, there's someone in the box with her but she can't see them, and when she wakes up she's forgotten the whole thing. The only trace of the dream is the joy thrumming through her veins, the way she sees things in a new light, even just for a moment, the way it seems like the universe is full of music and she's a part of the song.

And life gets in the way, sure, and she argues with the children or Shaun or she has headaches or she loses her keys, but some mornings she wakes up and feels as if she could see all the possibilities, all the what-ifs and the could-bes, and she can almost touch them, for a moment, and it's those fleeting moments of being part of the song that make her join Alice on Mars, that make her kindness — often masked by her clever sharp tongue and her poor opinion of herself — come out, flare like a sunspot, and she feels so connected to everything. Not all the time, and not for very long, but sometimes, and it's enough.


End file.
